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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226555">never been held (like something to be sheltered)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems'>EmAndFandems</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Ice Cream, Nightmares, Post-Canon Fix-It</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:15:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Rowdy Van rescued Bart? What if Martin unleashed his Team Dad energy in the direction of a character who really needs it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bart Curlish &amp; Martin (Dirk Gently)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>never been held (like something to be sheltered)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hittooclosetohome/gifts">hittooclosetohome</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title is a slightly adapted (read: mangled) version of a quote from <i>The King's Men</i> by Nora Sakavic. This fic was originally posted to my DGHDA sideblog, @notpsychic on tumblr! Come give me a yell &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Martin crouches beside her as she sits up. Curls up really. Knees to her chest, vulnerable and angry about it, glaring at him for daring to notice. To see her like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows what that’s like. He knows the way folks like them got treated, back </span>
  <em>
    <span>there;</span>
  </em>
  <span> he knows what it’s like to be called </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span> so often you retreat behind the word like a shield. And he was lucky: he had the other guys; he always had someone for the worst parts. Martin doesn’t have to be psychic to know that Bart has never had anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, and waits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bart sniffles and pretends she didn’t. When it’s clear he's not going away anytime soon, she mumbles something like, “Whaddyawan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin shrugs. “Not sure. What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not going to give him an answer to that. He sees the stoniness behind her eyes, the hard set of her jaw. She’s clenched tight as a fist around the handle of a knife, white-knuckled and ready to hurt. Martin exhales. She doesn’t want to hurt any of them. She’s never really wanted to hurt anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about some late-night ice cream?” he says, in a whisper like it’s so the others won't hear, in a tone that makes it a secret but the good kind. Not the kind that means lies and pain. “We won’t tell the drummer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bart frowns. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’ll tell us it's bad for our health,” says Martin, and winks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes widen. “It is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only one way to find out.” He stands, as much as he can, his head pressing against the roof of the van and his knees still bent; god, his spine hates living in a place this small. But it’s mobile and it's safe and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>theirs,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so he wouldn’t trade it for anything. When he’s on his feet, Martin holds out a hand. “You in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she’s still huddled on the floor, sullen. Defensive, and defensive about it. “Nah,” she says, and she’s trying to sound casual but it doesn’t quite come out right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin hesitates and then sits back down, back against the wall. “Something wrong?” It’s a question, sure, but they both know the answer’s yes, so what he’s actually asking is </span>
  <em>
    <span>What's wrong?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But that would be sappy. He doesn’t do sappy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks away. Bart is very good at looking away. Her fingers are worrying at the corner of the blanket. Her lip has been chewed raw. “S’nothing,” she tells him, with an edge to the words that could mean either that she wants him to ask again or that she’ll start screaming if he asks again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin takes another look and decides to risk an educated guess. “Bad dream maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head snaps to him, eyes frantic and maybe just a little wet, breath coming just a little too quick. “No,” she says, too fast and too loud, in that way that means yes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A glance at the others, unmoving silhouetted forms in the dim light of the nearest streetlamp, shows them still asleep. Martin places a finger to his lips and Bart shrinks into herself. “Sorry,” and the word falls awkwardly out of a mouth both unfamiliar with it and too familiar, and the whisper’s exaggerated like she doesn’t know how to be quiet. Not much call for it in their line of work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin doesn't ask what the dream was about. No reason to poke at an injury. No use stirring up the memory. Instead he says, “You wouldn’t believe how loud Cross used to snore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bart’s laugh is explosive. The first time she let one out, four of them dropped into defensive stances, and Amanda and Rainbow made fun of them for days. Now she claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the wheezy sound, because she knows what Gripps is like when he’s woken at an hour like this. Martin’s only awake now because he heard Bart making some noise in her sleep and he thought it was Vogel again. He doesn't know how to handle it when it’s not Vogel. But maybe he can deal with this. Bart clasps her hands and stage-whispers, “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin nods like he’s conferring the mysteries of the universe to her. Man, it would be nice to be in on some of those. “Oh yeah. Woke us all up. Pain in the ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time she giggles. It’s almost possible to pretend she wasn't holding back tears a couple minutes ago. “How’d you get him to stop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Martin spreads his hands and grins. Bart’s smiling back now. Good. That’s good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” she urges. “C’mon, I wanna know, tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks around and leans in close. She leans in too, waiting, eager. The leftover gloom of the nightmare evaporates into the night air. When Martin’s sure he’s got her hooked, he confides, “He sleeps on his side now,” and she groans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it was gonna be something excitin’,” complains Bart. “That’s not a story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn't know you wanted a </span>
  <em>
    <span>story,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Martin says. “Stories come with ice cream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They do?" It’s weird, the innocence in her face sometimes. He knows she’s washed more blood off her hands than anyone he’s ever met, anyone who wasn’t employed by the CIA at least, and yet there’s times like these, moments when she’s just a kid. Just a kid who grew up all wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. How’s this, I’ll tell you about breaking into a senator’s house if you come along while I get some rocky road.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chocolate,” says Bart, so it’s a deal.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First posted work for DGHDA! I hope this fandom is less dead than I suspect it is. I know I'm late to the game. Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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